


The One Where Yata and Zenigata Go Undercover at a Sexy Fetish Club (and Get In Over Their Heads)

by doodledinmypants



Series: Yata’s Excellent Side Twink Adventures [4]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Fetish Club, Humor, Masks, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Club, Shibari, Undercover Mission, Zeni/Yata is the main ship here, bdsm/fetish gear, but there are multiple background ships, canon-typical Fujiko shenanigans, clandestine relationship with coworker, dubious consent (trickery and dishonesty), extremely fluffy ending, mild sexual assault (ass slap), paying off debt through sex, sex slave auction (consensual), wrestling/fighting as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29540310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodledinmypants/pseuds/doodledinmypants
Summary: Zenigata and Yata go undercover at the Snowflake Club in an attempt to figure out what Lupin and his cohorts are doing there. In order to maintain their cover on this extremely unsanctioned mission, they have to play along with the club's rules.(Does not share continuity with other fics in this series, this is a one-shot.)This is entirely an excuse to write kinky porn, with an OT6 orgy in the finale. Enjoy.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Yatagarasu Gorou, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi, Jigen Daisuke/Yatagarasu Gorou, Jigen/Yata/Goemon, OT4 - Relationship, OT6 - Relationship, Zenigata Kouichi/Yatagarasu Gorou
Series: Yata’s Excellent Side Twink Adventures [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097663
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. IN WHICH ZENIGATA AND YATA PREPARE TO GO UNDERCOVER… AND THEN UNCOVERED

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful horny bastards on the Lupin Discord servers who suggested this, in particular Hazza and TabbieWolf for providing beta-reading and feedback.

“We don’t have ICPO sanction for this,” Zenigata reminded Yata for probably the seventh time. 

Yata tightened a leather strap through a buckle until Zenigata grunted, then leaned back to check the fit. “Yes, sir. I am fully aware of that. I’m still coming with you.”

“You realize what sort of a place this is, right?”

Yata gave him a long stare. “Sir. I’m buckling you into a leather harness. You’re wearing pants that look like someone painted an oil slick over your ass. You’re going to be wearing a leather mask in a moment to hide your face. I’m not _that_ naive.”

Zenigata’s face burned crimson and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Sometimes I forget your generation grew up with the internet. I guess nothing surprises you in that regard anymore, huh?”

Hiding his smile by ducking his head, under the pretense of checking another buckle, Yata said, “No, sir.”

Zenigata checked himself out in the full-length mirror with a critical frown. He was still in excellent shape for his age, and while the leather and PVC getup seemed a little ridiculous on him, Zenigata could see the appeal. Satisfied that he at least looked the part, he sat on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. 

Meanwhile, Yata went into the bathroom to get himself ready. It had been awhile since he’d been to a club like the kind they were planning to “stake out undercover,” but since this wasn’t _official_ ICPO business, he didn’t see the harm in having a little fun while he was at it. Besides, it would only make his cover more convincing. That was the excuse he planned to feed Zenigata, anyway. It wasn’t even really a lie. Yata prepped himself thoroughly and shimmied into his own ‘disguise’ for the evening: vinyl booty shorts, a fishnet shirt, and a black satin brocade corset vest that—once Yata tightened up the laces—made his waist look even more narrow than it already was. The shorts had a flap in the back with a row of snaps holding it in place. Beneath the flap he wore a plug with a fake blue gemstone set into the outer handle. 

Yata bit his lip as every step he took caused the plug to shift inside him. With how tight his shorts were, he wasn’t going to be able to hide anything for very long. Hopefully Zenigata wouldn’t notice until they were already inside the club. He threw on a pair of black dress slacks over the shorts, just to be safe. It wouldn’t do to flash any innocent civilians, either.

“Ready?” Zenigata asked as Yata exited the bathroom. He took a good look at Yata’s outfit and blushed again. “Uh, wow. That… sure is a… different look for you, Yata.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yata had added just a touch of black eyeliner, accentuating his already thick lashes and wide eyes. The leather half mask he planned to put on later would hide some of his face but his eyes would still be visible. “Would you like me to do you, too?” 

When Zenigata choked and stammered, Yata hastily added, “I mean eyeliner, sir!”

“N-no, that’s all right.” Once Zenigata looked to be less in danger of having an aneurysm, he shrugged into a black canvas trench coat instead of his usual camel colored one. Yata’s coat was already black, so he just wore that. “Steel yourself, Yatagarasu-kun. We don’t know what we’ll find in this place, but Lupin clearly has his hand in it so it can’t be good. And whatever you do, don’t blow your cover.”

Yata snapped off a salute and schooled his expression to keep from smirking at his mentor’s unintentional pun. “Yes, sir! I won’t let you down!”

Zenigata gave him a grim nod, and then they were on their way to the Snowflake Club.

…

Zenigata and Yata tugged the last pieces of their disguises into place before they exited their rental car two blocks away from the target location. Zenigata felt far more exposed here on the sidewalk with the mask on than he had without it, to be honest. Under the trench coat, he could have been wearing anything—nobody passing by would think twice about him. But a black leather equivalent of a balaclava? He looked like he was either cosplaying a really kinky bank robber, or going to a sex club. At least one of those things was true.

“Sir,” whispered Yata, keeping close as they approached the line for entry into the club, “I know we discussed the signals for if we get separated, or run into trouble, or find a member of the Lupin Gang, but how are we supposed to _recognize_ them if everyone is masked?”

“Trust me, I’ll know them when I see them,” Zenigata assured Yata with a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve been around long enough that you know most of Lupin’s tricks, too. Follow your instincts and you can’t go wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” Yata didn’t sound fully convinced, but he did trust Zenigata. Seeing the other people waiting in line, everyone wearing masks or hoods and varying outfits from street clothes to outright fetish gear, he bit his lip nervously. The Lupin Gang might already be inside, tucked away in any of the dozens of private rooms that were available for guests to use. It still didn’t make sense to him why they would even be here; there were no notable art pieces or precious jewels on display in the club, and while it was certainly the sort of place that catered to a richer demographic than either he or Zenigata belonged to, they weren’t likely to keep a lot of cash on location. Could they be here to plan a different job, or perhaps the club was adjacent to a bank or a museum? Whatever it was, Zenigata was determined to find out. He’d spent his entire year’s bonus on the entry fees to this place, and Yata had helped buy the disguises as a way to keep his mentor from blowing all of his meager earnings on this unsanctioned mission. Truth be told, he already had some of this stuff in his closet—but Zenigata didn’t need to know that. 

The Snowflake Club had a tasteful exterior, looking like the sort of place you’d go to sample expensive whiskeys and smoke cigars rather than a BDSM and sex club. A plaque near the door was engraved in English: _“Silently, like thoughts that come and go, the snowflakes fall, each one a gem."_ _\- William Hamilton Gibson._

A pair of bouncers clad entirely in black leather stood at attention on either side of the double doors, their attire and that of the queued guests the only indication that this _wasn’t_ actually a fancy whiskey and cigar club. When it was finally their turn, Zenigata showed them the access code that had been emailed to him after he’d purchased their tickets online. The first bouncer nodded and began to open the door, but the second stopped him with a shake of his head. Yata’s pulse pounded in his ears. Had they been discovered already? They hadn’t even made it through the front doors!

“You’re gonna wanna keep a pet like that on a leash, if you don’t want anyone else playing with him,” the second bouncer told Zenigata, giving Yata an appraising look. “Otherwise someone’s definitely gonna snap him up.”

Zenigata stiffened and his chest puffed as though he were about to lecture the bouncer, so Yata wrapped himself around the inspector’s arm and smiled coyly up at the bouncer. “I wouldn’t mind if _you_ snapped me up,” Yata breathed, biting his lower lip and glancing pointedly down at the man’s tight, leather pants. “Too bad you’re working.”

The bouncer laughed and the doors opened for them. Yata nudged a stunned Zenigata through before they could change their minds. He heard the slap on his ass before he felt it, and his face flushed. The doors closed behind them, leaving them in a dark corridor that led to another set of doors. There was a coat check along the way where they were able to leave their outerwear. In this case, that also included Yata’s slacks. They were each given a token with a number on it that corresponded to the hanger their coat was on. Zenigata had actual pockets in his outfit, so he kept both tokens.

“I don’t like the way he talked about you,” Zenigata grumbled, putting one hand protectively (or possessively) over the hand Yata had slipped back through his arm. “Objectifying you like that. Awfully bold of him.”

“Sir, if you jump to defend my honor every time someone looks at me or makes comments like that, we may as well leave now,” Yata said, a hint of stern impatience creeping into his voice. “You and I both know what we could encounter here. Please, sir. I promise I can handle myself.”

Zenigata looked at his apprentice with newfound respect and nodded. “Of course. Forgive me. You’re smart and competent—you just proved that again with your quick thinking at the doors. I’ll try to stay focused.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yata took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 

“Although,” Zenigata added hesitantly, his cheeks reddening as he kept his eyes straight ahead, “if you wanted to stay close to me, so that fewer people might try to take advantage, I would understand.”

Now Yata felt his heart pound for an entirely different reason. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

When they stepped through the second set of doors, they found themselves in an enormous, opulent lobby. The walls were draped in floor to ceiling burgundy velvet curtains, evoking a classy theater venue. Framed prints of pastoral Gibson illustrations hung in spots where the curtains were gathered aside and bound with gold chains. Black leather couches and chairs were arranged at regular intervals for guests to sit and chat. It was a surprisingly relaxed scene; aside from the outfits and masks, they might as well have been at a gallery showing. Yata watched a woman in a studded leotard walking a man in a full-face dog mask, on all fours, on a leash. Well, there were a few other key differences, he supposed.

The masks were more than fetish gear: they were a requirement for entry. The club was entirely anonymous. Aside from any companions one entered with, it was forbidden to know the other guests by name or face. This was both to protect the privacy of the guests as well as the liability of the establishment—such a rule ensured that their guests, whether famous politicians or wanted criminals, would be safe from recognition. Even if a guest did manage to recognize another, they were strongly encouraged to pretend that they were strangers. This provided an additional challenge to Zenigata’s unofficial investigation. However, the rule worked in his favor as well; in his full-coverage hood, he could observe Lupin and his associates without them thinking anything of it, and they would be just as obligated to feign ignorance of his identity if they did happen to catch on. It was an enforced neutrality. Zenigata did have his badge hidden inside one of his boots just in case he caught anyone up to any thievery, of course.

Speak of the devils… Zenigata pulled Yata down onto one of the couches with him, a little too quickly to be inconspicuous, but Yata covered by giggling and straddling Zenigata’s lap. He leaned in close so that Zenigata could whisper in his ear: “They’re here. On my six. Don’t look directly at them.”

Yata pretended to puzzle at Zenigata’s neck, taking a little bit of smug pleasure in the way his mentor’s skin heated beneath his lips. “I see them. It looks like they’re leaving in different directions. Should we split up and follow them?”

“Good idea. Meet back here in one hour to report. Oh, and Yata?”

“Yes, sir?”

He felt Zenigata’s teeth nip sharply at the lobe of his ear before his deep, rough voice rumbled: “Don’t have _too_ much fun selling the cover.”

 _Damnit._ So maybe Yata wasn’t being as subtle as he thought. He kept his tone humble. “Yes, sir.”


	2. IN WHICH JIGEN AND LUPIN PLAY WITH ZENIGATA

Outside of the main lobby, there were several large rooms for demonstrations and different themes, as well as more private rooms for smaller groups. Lupin and Jigen had taken off down one corridor that led to rooms marked things like “Boot Blacking,” “Impact Play,” and “Rough & Tumble”. Zenigata wasn’t sure what that last one meant specifically in this context, but he had an idea about the other two. He  had done _some_ research before coming here, after all.

Naturally, he lost sight of both men as soon as he rounded a corner. Crap. Where was Lupin? He supposed he should just check some of the rooms until he spotted the slippery thief. 

“Rough & Tumble” had caught his curiosity, and it seemed as good a place to start as any, so Zenigata opened the door and slipped inside as unobtrusively as possible. The first thing he noticed was the chorus of grunts, moans, and muffled shouts, as well as heavy thuds. There was an area where boots and shoes were lined up neatly near the door, and beyond that the floor was entirely covered in gray gymnastics mats. The sharp, musky odor of sweat and sex filled the air so thickly that Zenigata coughed in surprise. If it weren’t for the fact that there was clearly some fucking going on in here, he might have mistaken it for an ordinary martial arts dojo. Most of the occupants were men, as far as Zenigata could tell, and most of them were kneeling or standing along the near wall, watching the action on the mats rather than participating. Some of them were obviously waiting for their turn, grinning and shifting eagerly. There were pairs of opponents wrestling and sparring (and sometimes things that didn’t look like fighting at all) on the mats. He removed his boots reluctantly and set them near the others, making sure his badge was concealed in the inner pocket.   


Zenigata narrowly dodged as a man flew past him into the shoe area, skidding up against the door with a groan. Club staff in orange safety vests appeared out of seemingly nowhere to haul the unconscious man onto a stretcher and cart him away. Staring after them, Zenigata looked to the mats to see what kind of monster had thrown a grown, decently large man across the room like that. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he realized it was Daisuke Jigen.

The gunman had his left hand on his right shoulder, rotating it in a gentle stretch. He was smirking. “All right, fellas,” he invited with a lazy, smoke-rough drawl. “One at a time. I don’t fuck anyone who can’t at least get me in a draw.”

A more or less orderly line formed near Jigen’s area of the mats. Zenigata found himself swept along with them, and it was just easier to stay in line rather than make his excuses to leave. At least this way he could keep an eye on Jigen—and where there was Jigen, there was almost certainly Lupin somewhere nearby.

Several men (and it was always men, in this line, it seemed) tried their luck against Jigen and failed. Most walked away, only one other challenger needing the medical staff like the first one. Jigen was barely even moving, it seemed, only blurring into motion at the exact moment his opponent came into contact with him. Then he was back to slouching, bored, where he stood.

“Hey.” Zenigata’s attention snapped to Jigen, who was staring right at him. He wore a black fabric mask over his eyes and a black knit beanie instead of his customary fedora, but his distinctive beard gave away his identity immediately. “You there, big guy in the shiny pants. Yes, I’m talking to you. C’mere. You’re next.”

Zenigata stepped out onto the mats slowly to a few hoots of encouragement. Jigen looked him up and down appraisingly. “You’ve had some training, yeah?”

Worried his voice would give him away, Zenigata simply nodded. He eyed Jigen in much the same way the gunman was eying him. The gunman was lean, wiry rather than bulky, but he had a surprising amount of muscle on his skinny frame. Even though Zenigata knew Jigen could hold his own in a fight with or without his gun, it was still startling to see him looking like he was in his element here. His chest, arms, and feet were bare, wrists and hands wrapped with athletic bandages, simple black pants loose and unrestrictive. Zenigata was starting to regret his choice in disguises. He creaked when he walked.

“Good.” Jigen faced off against him, stance deceptively loose, almost lazy. It reminded Zenigata a little of that ‘drunken boxing’ style he’d seen in a movie once. “Come at me.”

Zenigata didn’t really have a choice if he wanted to maintain his cover. Jigen wanted a fight, did he? Then Zenigata would try to deliver. 

He took a deep breath and slid his feet into his own stance. With a mighty bellow, he charged at Jigen head-on. Jigen looked almost disappointed as he took hold of Zenigata’s outstretched wrist, ready to throw him the way he’d thrown the other guy, but then Zenigata dropped all of his weight straight down and clasped Jigen’s forearm in his hand. It took careful timing on his part: Jigen was the master of the point three second quick draw. He and Goemon could move their hands faster than most humans could see with the naked eye. But Zenigata had been given the opportunity to watch Jigen’s technique with the last few challengers, and had noticed that the gunman wasn’t actually trying all that hard. He  _ knew _ most of the people here weren’t on his level, and he was purposefully restricting himself to only two simple throws, based on the way most of the attackers came at him. By dropping down at the last possible second, he made it impossible for Jigen to use his momentum and weight against him, instead putting the gunman off-balance. This allowed Zenigata to use his decades of judo training to throw  _ Jigen _ instead.

Jigen flew. He hit the mat at a roll and came up on his feet, shaking off the surprise and grinning broadly. “That’s more like it!” he crowed. “All right, big guy, let’s party.”

This time, Zenigata let Jigen come to him. The kid gloves were off. Jigen fought like a wild animal, fast and fierce, taunting Zenigata and trying to feel out his weak spots. Zenigata kept his wits about him and remained solid, unmovable, so that Jigen was forced to dance around him and expend more energy. Zenigata could detect, very faintly, a wheeze as Jigen’s breathing grew heavier.  _ Too many cigarettes _ , Zenigata thought grimly. He’d tried to kick the habit himself on and off over the years, but he almost never saw Jigen without a bent cigarette dangling from his lips. Now was one of those rare moments—it wouldn’t do to accidentally inhale a cigarette while engaging in hand-to-hand combat, even if it was unlit. 

After trading lighter blows for a minute, Jigen’s fighting style more like boxing than any martial art Zenigata was familiar with, the gunman switched things up suddenly and went for a leg sweep. Zenigata went down, hard, but he caught Jigen when he attempted to pin him to the mat and heaved himself to the side, flipping their positions. Now he had Jigen under him, panting and staring up at him, and Zenigata could feel how hard he was.

“Looks like you’re the winner,” Jigen said, his lazy, cocksure grin curling across his scruffy face. “Nice work, stranger. What say you and me go somewhere a little more private?”

_ Oh, right. _ Zenigata’s mind short-circuited for a second. Jigen had been looking for someone to best him to find a worthy sex partner. For some reason, Zenigata had assumed it was an act, just Jigen playing a part for whatever job he and Lupin had cooked up. He hadn’t actually expected Jigen to want to  _ fuck _ him if he won. The prospect sent a not-altogether unpleasant shiver down his spine. His blood was already pumping hot from the sparring match, adrenaline giving him a heady rush. Zenigata nodded in agreement and got up off Jigen. Jigen seemed pleasantly surprised when Zenigata offered him a hand up, accepting it. 

They put their boots back on in the entryway and Jigen took Zenigata’s hand again, leading him out into the corridor and down to a narrower, quieter one with the small private rooms. Jigen ran a thumb over the back of Zenigata’s hand. “You mind if a friend joins us?”

Hope jumped in Zenigata’s chest, and he stomped it down to throw Jigen a casual shrug. He still wasn’t sure if he should speak. 

“Not much of a talker, huh? That’s fine. My friend can talk enough for all three of us.” Jigen chuckled. “I think he’ll like you. You could say that he and I share a ‘type,’ and you’re it.”

Zenigata blushed, but couldn’t help but wonder: were Lupin and Jigen actually attracted to him, or was this another ploy? Jigen could be stringing him along. He may have already figured out Zenigata’s ruse and was just doing this to distract him while Lupin got away with the actual crime elsewhere. Well, there was no sense in second-guessing himself now. He had a potential lead and he was going to follow through with it!

They stopped at a door and Jigen knocked lightly in a rapid pattern that Zenigata couldn’t follow well enough to memorize. A lock turned and the door opened, revealing Lupin in all of his naked glory, plus a black domino mask that barely disguised him at all. Zenigata tried not to make choked, sputtering noises when he realized the thief was also rock hard, red, and dripping. Jigen looked his partner over and sighed. “Did you get started already?”

“You took too long!” Lupin whined. “I got bored! What’d you bring me, Ji-chan?”

Full names were not allowed, even for companions you brought with you, but nicknames were fine. “This guy beat me in a mostly fair fight. He’s a nice slab of beef, a little on the quiet side so not exactly like our Pops.”

Zenigata flinched at the familiar nickname, certain that he’d been discovered now. But Lupin just looked him over and nodded in approval. “Yeah, he’ll do fine. A little hunkier than Pops, too, but that’s not a complaint.” 

It was deeply weird to hear Lupin and Jigen talk about him—both him as Zenigata, and him as in the ‘disguised and infiltrating a sex club’ persona. Zenigata dipped his head both in thanks and greeting. 

Lupin stepped closer and circled around Zenigata, hungrily taking him in from other angles. “Got something we can call you, stranger? Just a nickname, of course.”

At least this was something Zenigata had prepared in advance. “Mo,” he said without hesitation, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper to disguise it as best he could. “You?”

“This is Ji, and you can call me Lu,” said Lupin. Obviously they didn’t care if their ‘nicknames’ were just the first syllables of their actual names. They must have felt pretty confident about whatever they were doing here. Their ‘disguises’ barely covered anything—particularly in Lupin’s case. “Nice to meet you, Mo. Now, how do you like to be fucked, hmm?”

Zenigata froze, eyes widening. Jigen nudged Lupin and Lupin rolled his eyes. “Oh, I suppose you’re a ‘top,’ huh? Could’ve fooled me, even with that beefcake body of yours. Well, we can still work with that.”

“Oh, it’s not…” Zenigata stammered, keeping his voice low even as his mind raced to find a way out of actually having sex with Lupin the Third and Daisuke Jigen. Even if they were supposed to be anonymous, he was pretty sure Interpol would frown on such a dalliance. Then again, Interpol wasn’t footing the bill for this mission, and maybe Lupin would talk about his  _ real _ reason for being here once he was all relaxed and fucked out. Zenigata swallowed. Somehow, he’d always known deep down that the best way to defeat Lupin would be to exploit one of his major weaknesses: sex. Seducing the thief had seemed like a laughable prospect before, though. This might be his only chance. Zenigata cleared his throat and whispered, “I’m fine with either, really. Use me however you like.”

_ That _ seemed to get Lupin’s attention, and the thief’s lips curved up in delight. “Mo-chan! That’s what I like to hear. All right, get those pants off. You can leave the harness on, if you want.”

The room contained a low-backed couch that could also double as a bed, an armchair, a padded table like the kind used for massage (it even had a hole on each end and in the middle for putting one’s face or other body parts through), and a narrow table along one wall that held a variety of toys, cleaning supplies, lube, and condoms. Zenigata sat down on the chair to remove his boots, then peeled out of his vinyl trousers with some difficulty. He did leave the harness on, if only because it had taken Yata almost fifteen minutes just to buckle him  _ into _ it, and his flimsy thong underwear. Jigen whistled as he beheld the size of Zenigata’s dick even in its flaccid state, bulging out the thin, slightly translucent fabric. 

“Mo,” Jigen purred as he moved in close, “you’ve been holding out on me. Didn’t realize you were packing this kinda heat.”

Despite himself, Zenigata could feel his cock give an interested twitch in response to that sultry voice. Nobody had even touched him yet, aside from the sparring, yet the blood was already rushing to fill his cock, plumping up the head, making the flushed red tip poke out from its foreskin, leaving a damp spot against the front of his underwear. If he got much harder, the thong wouldn’t be able to contain him anymore. The fabric was already straining from reaching half mast. Jigen and Lupin watched in fascination, Lupin’s hand wandering down to squeeze at the base of his own erection. 

“Fuck,” Lupin breathed, looking a little flushed as he licked his lips. “Ji, it’s your turn to pick. How do you wanna do this?”

“You’re gonna whine if I take that gorgeous cock all for myself,” Jigen chuckled. He toyed with the waistband of Zenigata’s underwear, tugging on it so that it tightened slightly over his burgeoning erection. Zenigata bit back a moan before he remembered that he didn’t  _ have _ to hold back; this was literally part of his cover, so it made more sense to cut loose. He groaned softly as Jigen’s hand slid warm and firm over his hip and down to cup and squeeze at his ass. “I’ll fuck him, and you can ride him all you like, how’s that?”

Zenigata hated how this was turning him on, the way they were talking about him like he wasn’t even there, like he was just an inanimate fuck toy they could use for their pleasure. It  _ was _ turning him on, though. He couldn’t deny it. The head of his cock poked up over the waistband of his underwear, too long now to have anywhere else to go, and it was still growing steadily. He shifted weight from foot to foot, wanting to sit down, or lie down, or  _ something _ that didn’t involve standing here being gawked at but not touched nearly enough. He rolled the waistband of the underwear down until it rested at the base of his cock, freeing it to bob in the open air. Lupin’s mouth watered at the sight.

“Yeah,” Lupin agreed readily. “That sounds perfect. All right, Mo, get up on the table, face-down. You should be able to get your face in one of the holes so you can breathe easily, and your cock through the one in the middle. I’ll be under the table, and Jigen will be up here on top of you. If you need to stop, or whatever, use the stoplight colors or give three fast taps on the table to signal ‘red light’ if you can’t speak. Got it?”

“Understood,” Zenigata breathed, a little shakily. He was really doing this, huh? Seducing the great Lupin the Third, who was looking at his cock like he wanted to devour it whole, and master marksman Jigen Daisuke, who was already grabbing lube and a condom so that he could plow Zenigata’s ass. It should have worried him, and yet Zenigata’s mind had zeroed in on this moment and this moment alone. He was about to get fucked by two of the most dangerous criminals he knew, and it was making him so painfully hard that his cock had started dribbling clear precome in anticipation. Scrambling up onto the table, he arranged himself as directed.

Jigen stood beside the table and tugged his underwear down and off his legs. “If you don’t want these ruined, I’d better take them off now,” he explained, setting them with Zenigata’s other things. “Gonna get you prepped while Lu blows you. I know the club requires health screening results for entry, but I’m gonna use a condom anyway for easier cleanup, yeah?”

Zenigata nodded, realized the motion was probably not very clear in his position, and said, “Yes. Thank you.”

They were being so strangely considerate. Everything felt methodical, thoughtful. They’d done this before, Zenigata realized. Maybe… Maybe there really wasn’t a job after all. Maybe they were literally just here to have a fun, sexy time, like anyone else. 

He couldn’t just leave on a ‘maybe,’ though, not when there was still a chance they might let something slip about a future job while their guards were down. 

Speaking of guard, Zenigata was caught off his, as a hand grabbed hold of his cock under the table and gave it a few long strokes. “So  _ big _ ,” Lupin said. “Such a pretty cock, too! Mmm, I wanna put it in my mouth, wanna  _ taste _ it.”

Zenigata heard the greedy slurp even as wet, velvety heat engulfed the top half of his cock. He moaned openly, forgetting to keep his voice hushed, and Lupin giggled around him before pulling off briefly. “Ha, he even sounds a little like Pops when he does that!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Jigen snickered, “but yeah, he kinda does. It’s cute.”

“Who’s this ‘Pops?’” Zenigata asked, rasping, still trying to keep his cover. 

“Just a guy we know, don’t worry about it,” Lupin said. Then Lupin returned to sucking on Zenigata’s dick and he did, in fact, stop worrying about it. He wasn’t worried about anything just then except for the way Lupin was touching him, mouthing him. He wished he could see it, but he couldn’t get more than just his face through the hole, not enough room to turn his head to look underneath. 

Jigen clicked the cap on a bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount onto his fingers. They were a little cold as they touched the outside of his hole, but warmed quickly as he worked them inside one at a time, carefully stretching Zenigata’s rim. This wasn’t Zenigata’s first time with a man, but it had been awhile. He hoped he could still take it without too much trouble. 

“Pops would never let us do  _ this _ to him, though,” Jigen said, voice going low and gravelly with desire. Zenigata shivered: desire for  _ him _ . The two, then three long, calloused fingers inside him spread and stretched, then squeezed together to reach in as far as they could go and— _ oh _ . Jigen apparently found the direct line to his cock somewhere in there because he yelped and his cock gushed with clear precome. Somewhere below him he could hear Lupin swallowing wetly and making ‘yum’ sounds. “Ooh, Mo, you’re  _ sensitive _ . That’s hot. We’re gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Zenigata realized, as Jigen’s thick, blunt cock slid in to replace his fingers, that he was in way over his head.


	3. IN WHICH GOEMON AND FUJIKO PLAY WITH YATA

Fujiko and Goemon had vanished down a hallway together, so Yata tried to follow them without making it look like that was what he was doing. He took short steps to keep the friction of the plug in his ass at a minimum—why had he thought wearing it, even on an unofficial mission, was a good idea, again?—passing doors with signs like “Hard Discipline,” “CBT,” “Roleplay/Dress-Up Wardrobe,” and finally, “Shibari.” From that door, Yata could hear the soft strains of a shakuhachi flute and the crisp strings of the koto.

Yata opened the Shibari door, curious, and felt like he was stepping into a traditional Japanese dojo. He removed his boots near the door and padded in his socks across the tatami to kneel with a loose crowd of other onlookers. Most wore regular fetish gear, but a few were in kimono or just fundoshi. In the center of the room, a man wearing a hakama was methodically coiling a soft, crimson rope around his forearm as he knelt on the tatami. Unlike most of the other club guests, Goemon Ishikawa XIII wore a Japanese style mask that depicted a blue oni face, with tusks in its snarling mouth and horns sprouting from the forehead. Otherwise his hair and clothing were exactly the same as ever, making him easy for Yata to spot. 

Goemon stood slowly and approached the onlookers. Yata couldn’t see his sword, but he assumed that Goemon was keeping it somewhere safe, or perhaps he’d hidden it inside his clothing somehow. Where there was Goemon, Zantetsuken was never far away. Yata was so busy wondering where the sword might be hidden that he didn’t realize Goemon had stopped before him until the samurai spoke: “Stand up. You will assist with my first demonstration.”

Yata obeyed immediately, shaking with nerves. Had Goemon recognized him? It was impossible to read his face at all in that mask, not that Goemon was typically very expressive in Yata’s experience. Well, it was too late to try to leave now, unless he wanted to cause a scene.  _ Don’t blow your cover _ , he chided himself, allowing Goemon to lead him to the center of the room.

“You will want to remove this first,” Goemon said, running his hands over the satin brocade of the corset vest in curiosity and appreciation. “It is lovely but it will restrict your movement too much for what I wish to do with you. You will still be restricted, but by my design.”

“Oh, right.” Yata reached back but struggled with the knot he’d tied. It was awkward trying to pick it apart from this angle. “Would you mind…?”

Goemon nodded and stepped into Yata’s space so that they were nearly chest-to-chest, reaching behind Yata and deftly untangling and untying the laces. He loosened them quickly, as though he’d dealt with corsets plenty of times. Perhaps he was just good with ties and laces in general. In any case, he had Yata out of the vest in record time, setting it aside on a nearby low table. He looked down at Yata’s shiny vinyl shorts, where his partial erection was clearly outlined. “Do you wish to keep those on?”

Yata blushed, remembering the plug inside him. He wanted to keep that to himself, at least for now. “Yes, please, if that’s all right.”

Goemon grunted assent. “Stand still, facing them. Let your arms hang loose at your sides. Chin up. I will move your body if I need to do so.”

Yata obeyed. He felt exposed, despite being allowed to keep his shorts on. Put on display in front of these quiet, curious strangers. They had clearly come to watch Goemon work his magic with the ropes. “I’m Crow. What should I call you?”

“Do not call me,” Goemon rumbled. “Stoplight colors apply here. If something hurts, tell me immediately.”

He began by making a lark's head knot in the rope, letting that hang down behind Yata’s neck, and began weaving and wrapping Yata in the crimson rope. It was a fascinating process, a little like macrame or playing a game of Cat’s Cradle, but with rope that hugged his entire body. The way Goemon touched him as he arranged the ropes was certainly inspiring as well, and by the time he looped the rope down between Yata’s legs he was fully hard and straining against the vinyl shorts. The rope contained a loop that pressed just above, to the sides, and behind his cock and balls. Goemon tied a thick knot back there to press into his perineum any time he moved in a way that put stress on the ropes. Yata didn’t want to struggle while Goemon was creating this art, however, so he tried to relax into the feeling. 

“Look to your right,” Goemon instructed quietly. “See how beautiful you look in the ropes.”

The words sent a shiver straight through Yata and pooled in the molten heat of his lower belly. He looked. His light skin looked even paler next to the vivid red of the rope, which was skillfully woven into an intricate harness around his entire torso. Goemon’s warm, steady hands stroked down his back and sides. Yata leaned into it, leaned against Goemon, whimpering softly. He wasn’t sure how to process this feeling, like he was  _ safe _ and  _ owned _ and  _ beautiful _ . Not to mention aroused to a near-painful degree.

“Do you wish to be suspended?” asked Goemon. He reached up and drew down a heavy chain with a blunt metal hook at the end. “The harness will hold your weight without causing much discomfort, but do tell me if anything hurts. It is not supposed to hurt.”

Yata nodded so quickly his mask almost came loose. Goemon noticed and politely fixed the tie in the back for him. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

Goemon seemed satisfied with this, so he brought Yata closer and put the hook through a particular thick loop and knot near the middle of his back. The chain was reeled back up through a mechanism that Yata couldn’t see, but he was a little too busy getting used to floating in midair to worry about that. It was a good hook placement: he was well-balanced, and it was true that the harness supported his weight without being very uncomfortable. It was a little like flying, actually, or falling in a parachute.

Apparently, suspending him in the air was not enough. Goemon brought out more rope. He took one of Yata’s legs and folded it so that his heel was touching his ass, then wrapped the rope around it several times and tied it so that it would stay there. He repeated this treatment on the other leg, so that Yata was dangling and unable to stretch his feet down to touch the ground even if the chain were lowered again. It changed his balance, too, tipping him too far forward for comfort. Goemon steadied him and looped an end of rope from each leg over the hook for additional support. “Reach back and grab your ankles.”

Yata did, and it forced his back to arch in a way that left him feeling very exposed and vulnerable. Goemon created a column of rope around each of his forearms and tied them in place. Yata could let go of his ankles if he wanted, but his hands didn’t have many other places to go. It did help return his balance.

Suspended like this, helpless and artfully tied up, Yata couldn’t help but wonder what would come next. Though his legs and arms were tied up, he could still spread his knees. The doubled length of rope that passed back between his legs split away in either direction after the perineal knot, leaving easy access to his rear end. Anyone could just come along, unsnap the flap on his tiny shorts, and see that plug glistening inside him. The thought made him moan softly as his cock jerked in the vinyl shorts. Did he want that? Did he want Goemon to see it, to do something about it? To pull that plug out and plunge his fingers inside instead? To stretch Yata with his cock, fucking him right there in front of all those people? Did he want Goemon to turn him around to face the mirror again so he could watch? He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit it to keep himself from panting and moaning out loud.

Goemon’s hands slowly moved away from him until he was only touching with the lightest contact of his fingertips. With all the pressure of a feather brushing against his skin, Goemon set Yata to rotating slowly to show him off from every angle. Soft gasps and murmurs of appreciation from the audience reminded Yata that there were other people in the room with them, and he felt the blush creep down his neck as it attempted to camouflage him against the ropes. They did not applaud, for which he was grateful; it would have felt cheap in this almost ceremonial atmosphere. 

“The demonstration is complete,” Goemon announced. “Another teacher will be in shortly to assist those who wish to learn more. Thank you.”

He bowed, and this time there was a smattering of applause, though it was subdued, as though nobody wished to make too much noise in this space. When Goemon turned back to Yata, he could see the wooden hilt of the samurai’s tanto blade poking out from inside his kimono. He used this instead of Zantetsuken to cut the ropes that bound Yata’s arms and legs, then lifted Yata off the hook with ease and lowered him to his feet gently. Yata wobbled like a newborn fawn and Goemon guided his limp arms up around the samurai’s powerful shoulders. “Hold onto me,” he instructed, voice pitched again so that only Yata could hear him. “I will not allow you to fall, but I need to remove the ropes.”

Yata nodded weakly and leaned against Goemon, holding onto him with every bit of strength he could muster. Goemon swiftly cut through the ropes at the back of Yata’s neck and they fell from him to lie like a splash of vivid blood against the tatami. Yata shivered violently, clinging to Goemon even more. The tanto was sheathed and vanished back into Goemon’s clothing. With great care, he lifted Yata in his arms as though he weighed no more than a child, and carried him through another door into a private adjoining room. 

Once the door was shut, Goemon lay Yata down on a comfortable futon. Then he reached up and removed his mask. Yata opened his mouth to protest, but Goemon shook his head with a small smile. “It is only the two of us, Officer Yatagarasu. You may take yours off as well, if you like. I can promise that nobody will punish us for breaking the rules in here.”

Yata let his head flop back against the futon with a sigh. “I’d better not,” he groaned. “I’m already in trouble if you recognized me.”

“You were not well-disguised.”  _ Blunt as ever, ouch.  _ “Also your pseudonym was very obvious. Crow, ‘karasu’ in Japanese, Yatagarasu. Even I am not so obtuse.”  _ Double ouch. _

“So what will you do with me, then?” Yata not-so-secretly hoped it involved fucking the daylights out of him, because he was about ready to burst if he didn’t get some relief soon. He’d agree to just about anything at this point. “If you can see through me so easily, you definitely know how that ‘demonstration’ affected me.”

“Ah. Yes.” Goemon hummed thoughtfully, smoothing a hand down Yata’s chest and belly, fingertips just barely skimming over the hard, jerking shape of Yata’s cock through the vinyl. Yata was leaking enough precome by now to make the insides of the shorts unpleasantly sticky. “I could give you what you want, if you are asking what I believe you are asking.”

“Ohgodyesplease,” Yata said in a rush of breath, hips bucking up to meet Goemon’s hand, which withdrew tantalizingly out of reach. Yata whined and reached for him, but Goemon simply pinned both of his wrists above his head with one hand. That only made Yata moan and buck harder. Where had this sexually confident Goemon been hiding, then? Did he keep this side of himself in the back of his closet, like Yata kept his fetish gear? The meager friction he received from the tight shorts on his cock and the base of the plug alike was not nearly enough, but he was desperate for it. 

“You will need to be patient,” Goemon admonished him. “If you hold on for a little longer, an even greater award awaits you.”

“My, my,” cooed a familiar, feminine voice. “Yata-chan, I would never have guessed you for the type to come to a place like this.”

Yata’s stomach dropped. Fujiko Mine entered the room, wearing a tasteful yet alluring black lace lingerie set with a silky cherry blossom patterned yukata worn open at the front. She, too, had removed her mask. “M-Mine-san...”

“Tsk! I thought we knew one another better than that. Fujiko is fine.” She pouted sweetly at Yata as she settled on the futon beside him. “It’s really too bad you’re here, though. This place has a very strict policy against undercover cops. They don’t tend to leave here…  _ intact _ .” Fujiko glanced pointedly at his rapidly withering erection. 

Yata swallowed audibly as his blood turned to ice. “You don’t mean—”

“Oh, yes, I  _ do _ mean.” Fujiko gave him wide, serious eyes. “Your dear inspector is already at the mercy of two of the most deadly men here. I would be surprised if he was able to walk out of here under his own power once they finished with him, if you catch my drift.”

Yata struggled against his temporary weakness to get up—only to be firmly reminded of Goemon’s hand still holding his wrists down. “What do you want from me? Please, Fujiko-san, we’re not officially here as police! Interpol doesn’t even know we’ve come here. As far as anyone needs to know, we’re just here to enjoy ourselves, like anyone else!”

_ “You _ certainly are,” Fujiko chuckled, tracing the faint pink lines that the rope had left in Yata’s skin. “Zenigata, on the other hand, is definitely trying to figure out what Lupin is up to in a place like this. Honestly, he could have used his imagination a little and come to the right conclusion without all of this trouble. But our Zenigata likes to do things the  _ hard _ way, doesn’t he?”

Now Yata was shaking, tears welling up in his big gray eyes. “Fujiko-san,  _ please! _ I know you wouldn’t really want to hurt him. Me, sure—I’m nobody to you—but Inspector Zenigata has been after you for a long time. You’ve  _ worked _ with him before. You know he’s a good man! He doesn’t deserve to be—”

He couldn’t even say it. If Fujiko was implying that the penalty for coming here undercover was castration, or worse, then Yata couldn’t bear the thought of it happening to his inspector. 

Fujiko spread her hands helplessly. “It’s not up to me. I know the owners, but they run things very strictly here. Unless… are you offering to take the inspector’s place?”

The choked sound Yata made wasn’t exactly an answer, but he gave a tearful nod. If it was the only way he could make up for his carelessness and hedonism, then so be it. 

“So loyal.” Fujiko petted his hair tenderly. “Don’t worry. I have an idea for how to get you both out of here with all the bits and pieces you came in with, but you’ll need to follow my instructions exactly. 

Yata gazed up at her as though she were a goddess of mercy. “Fujiko-san… Thank you so much. I knew you were a good person, deep down.”

Her eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, but it was her smile that chilled him again. “You might want to reserve judgment for after the auction.”   


“A-auction?”


	4. IN WHICH YATA GETS AUCTIONED OFF

Jigen had been surprisingly gentle, all things considered, but Zenigata still felt like he wasn’t going to be able to sit correctly for a week. Once Jigen had his turn, he’d rolled Zenigata over on the padded table and stuck a pillow beneath his head. “Comfy? Still haven’t come yet, huh? Don’t worry, Mo, we’ll take good care of you.”

“I don’t think I can move,” he mumbled, feeling the ache radiating up through his lower back and down through his thighs. His cock was still hard, wet, and twitching. Lupin popped up from under the table with a smug expression and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d been edging Zenigata the entire time Jigen was fucking him, getting him so close to climax before yanking it away at the last second. It was as hot as it was frustrating. “You’re a goddamn tease, Lu.”

“You know it!” Lupin snickered. “I couldn’t let you come just yet, big guy. Not when I haven’t had _my_ fun!”

Zenigata was about to retort something along the lines of _that’s all you’ve_ **_been_ ** _doing, you cheeky monkey,_ but then Lupin was rolling a condom over Zenigata’s cock and hopping up onto the table to mount Zenigata like a horse. Instead of a saddle, though, he was guiding Zenigata’s cock into his already well-prepped ass and sinking down on it with an expression of intense, concentrated bliss. Zenigata, teased to desperation, outright wailed at the tight heat enveloping him. Lupin purred, arching his back languidly and rubbing his hands all over Zenigata’s chest and belly.

“So _big_ ,” Lupin panted, tongue lolling out. “Just big all over, aren’t you? I love it. Gonna ride you so hard, milk that big cock of yours dry inside me, come all over your fat tits.”

The mask was good for hiding Zenigata’s blush, but only as far as his neck. It crept down his chest as well. He’d never had his, uh, _pecs_ described quite that way before, but for some reason it didn’t bother him. Maybe it was the way Lupin said it, not like an insult but like an adulation. It was… _filthy_ and _hot._

Lupin made good on his word, planting his feet to either side of Zenigata’s hips on the table and lifting himself up just until the tip of Zenigata’s cock rested inside Lupin’s hole, then letting gravity drop him back down with a grunt. Oh, Zenigata wasn’t going to be able to last long at all if Lupin kept this up. The thief did what thieves did best, and he _took;_ he stole every unguarded sound of pleasure that Zenigata owned, every helpless jerk of his hips, every breathless plea for _more, more, more!_ But as much as he took, he gave, too. Lupin rode him like he stole him, face alternately twisting up and going slack as he went through a kaleidoscope of expressions. He whined and whimpered and cooed and even _screamed_ when he came, voice warbling as he called out in ecstasy: “Oh, fuck, _Pops!”_

That was what did it. That was what pushed Zenigata off the cliff, finally, was hearing that familiar nickname on Lupin’s lips. The realization that Lupin _knew_ , he knew and he was fucking Zenigata anyway, he wanted _Zenigata inside him when he came_ , and _oh fuck_ he couldn’t hold back any longer. His back curled forward as every muscle in his abdomen engaged at once. His hands gripped Lupin’s hips hard enough to bruise as he pumped the condom full. He didn’t bother disguising his voice as he howled out a raw, throaty _“LUPIIIIIN!”_

Lupin, still struggling to catch his breath, flopped forward against Zenigata’s chest, heedless of the mess he’d made. His clever hands fumbled for the zipper at the back of Zenigata’s mask and he pulled it up, off, revealing the flushed and sweaty face of the inspector. They stared at each other with almost identical expressions of uncertainty, terror, and longing. Then Lupin kissed him like he didn’t need air after all, and Zenigata never wanted him to stop.

The sound of Jigen clearing his throat reminded them that they had an audience, and they broke away to look up at the gunman, who was grinning and holding out a warm, damp towel. “Sorry to interrupt, but we should get cleaned up. The auction is starting soon.”

“Ha, I knew it!” Zenigata barked. “I knew you wouldn’t just come here to have a little kinky fun! So, what’s at the auction, huh? Jewels? Priceless masterpieces?”

Lupin laughed in a way that was somehow both fond and condescending. “Oh, Pops. We’re not here to steal anything. This is part of our vacation!”

“But…” Zenigata faltered. His cock twitched feebly, as if to alert him to the fact that it was _still very much buried in Lupin’s ass, thank you very much._ “What’s the auction for, then?”

The smile Lupin gave him was anything but reassuring. “Put your pants back on and find out, _Mo.”_

…

The room where the auction was being held was a decent sized auditorium, and here the old-fashioned theater decor of the main lobby really made sense. Zenigata’s pants creaked as he eased himself into one of the velvet seats in the front row, wincing slightly at the sharp ache that lingered in places nobody had touched him in years. Jigen and Lupin sat to either side of him, which Zenigata thought strange. Even if they weren’t worried about him arresting them here, why would they stay so close? And why had they insisted on sitting up front and center?

A spotlight shone on the stage as the house lights dimmed. The low murmurs of the rest of the audience died away as a woman in a full patent leather catsuit and matching hood clicked out onto the stage, stiletto heels looking sharp enough to kill. Zenigata thought for a second that she might be Fujiko, but no, her proportions were completely different—she had the slender, willowy build of a dancer, with narrow hips and tiny, perky breasts. Her voice was different, too, surprisingly deep and husky for such a petite girl, but Zenigata found it attractive nonetheless. “Welcome, honored guests. I will be your MC and Auctioneer for this evening. You may call me Mistress Echo—but only if I give you permission to speak.” There was a collective chuckle from the audience. “This evening we have a very special auction for some very special playmates. Every person we have for auction this evening came here of their own free will, and they have signed a contract granting us consent. More than half of the proceeds from this auction will be donated to charities that aid victims of human trafficking, especially children.”

This time there was loud applause, and Zenigata found himself joining in. Who knew that a place like this would be so concerned with such matters? He would have expected the opposite: a club like this was exactly the sort of establishment he’d expect to find such victims. Even so, it seemed to be in poor taste to auction off 'sex slaves' to benefit human trafficking victims. 

“You will find your bidding paddles underneath your seats. Our first item up for bid is this handsome specimen,” Mistress Echo continued, gesturing as a man wearing an oni mask stepped out onto the stage. Even with his face completely obscured, there was no doubt this was Goemon Ishikawa XIII. He wore his customary clothing and left his long hair loose around his shoulders. “Nicknamed ‘Gogo.’ Though trained as a samurai and assassin, the skills he offers tonight are of a more intimate variety. He is a deft hand with the art of shibari, and has the sort of stamina that most men only dream of achieving. This ticket is good for one private session with Gogo, for as long as it takes to satisfy the buyer. All genders are encouraged to bid. We start at ten thousand.”

A sea of hands holding paddles rose into the air. There were a series of small paddles beneath each seat, in a rainbow of colors, with numbers on them. By holding the correct combination of paddles, one could place their bid at any number they chose without having to shout to be heard. Mistress Echo gazed out over the audience as the house lights went up and the stage lights dimmed to allow her to see, and she began rapidly pointing and reading off the numbers, as others shuffled their paddles and raised them to compete with the current highest bid. Gradually, fewer paddles went up, until the bidding war was down to three potential buyers. Then two. Finally, only one buyer continued to raise their paddles high, and Mistress Echo declared them the winner. An assistant in a leotard and bunny ears scampered down to the buyer to hand them a token and take their payment information. 

It was a fascinating auction, to be fair, but Zenigata still didn’t know what he was doing here. Had Lupin led him here to deal with some villain? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lured the inspector out under the pretext of a potential Lupin theft, only to reveal that there was a more dastardly crime afoot. This didn’t feel like those other times, though. For one thing, Lupin would have probably said something by now. He also wouldn’t have gone through with having sex with Zenigata just for something like that. 

Zenigata was still reeling from the knowledge that he had just had sex with Arsène Lupin III and Daisuke Jigen. Not only that, but they had established (somewhat apologetically) that they’d known Zenigata’s identity from the start. Which meant they had willingly, even _enthusiastically_ , had sex with the man who had made it his life’s work to arrest them. And Zenigata had done the same, no matter how much he tried to justify it as part of his ‘cover.’ He’d lectured Yata about the very thing Zenigata himself was guilty of doing; what a hypocrite.

Speaking of Yata, it was getting close to the time when they were supposed to meet back at the lobby. He wondered if he could make some excuse about needing the restroom and slip away. It was time for the next auction item, however, and Lupin grabbed hold of his arm. 

“You won’t want to miss this one, Pops, trust me,” the thief intoned. Zenigata squirmed uncomfortably in his seat but remained where he was. 

When the next ‘item’ shuffled out onto the stage, Zenigata gasped. He opened his mouth to call out, but Jigen and Lupin each clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle him. Zenigata stared, shocked and horrified, as Yata stood beside Mistress Echo. He looked unharmed, but there was a tight set to his lips and jaw that Zenigata read as fear, and a feverish determination in his eyes that usually meant his junior officer was planning to do something brave but incredibly foolish. He was so very like a young Zenigata in that moment that it made his heart hurt. Yata’s eyes met Zenigata’s, then, and widened as he saw his mentor being held in his seat by Lupin and Jigen, who were wearing identical sharp grins. Their gazes held for what felt like an eternity. Yata looked away first, shame coloring his cheeks.

“This lovely little bird goes by Crow,” said Mistress Echo. “As you can see, he’s a fit fellow, very pretty, _very_ obedient. Turn around and show off your tail feathers for our audience, will you, Crow?”

Yata closed his eyes and did as he was commanded, putting his hands on his knees and bending over to display his firm, vinyl-clad ass. Mistress Echo gave it a resounding slap and Yata jumped but swallowed his whimper so that only a tiny squeak escaped. A few of the audience tittered, some murmured appreciatively, yet another wolf-whistled. Silence fell as Mistress Echo sent her piercing stare out over the audience. “This pretty toy comes with a surprise inside. All wound up and ready to play.”

The sound of a dozen snaps being popped open at once echoed in the auditorium as the Mistress ripped the back flap of Yata’s shorts down in a dramatic reveal. There, nestled between his cheeks, was a shiny blue gem. His skin gleamed wetly around the gem, and Zenigata realized with a sickening flip of his stomach that it was an anal plug and lube. What had they done to Yata?!

“You don’t want to do anything foolish, Pops,” Lupin whispered in his ear. “Look around. The security here is armed, and they don’t take kindly to thieves making off with the merchandise.” He seemed thoroughly amused by the irony. Zenigata thoroughly was _not_.

“This can’t be legal,” Zenigata hissed back. “Someone must have tricked him, or threatened him or… or drugged him!”

“He had to sign the contract to be up there,” Jigen pointed out. “Not much anyone can do about it now except see who buys him. Or you could buy him yourself, I suppose.”

Mistress Echo spoke: “The bidding starts at one thousand.”

Zenigata felt cold and clammy. He’d spent his entire yearly bonus on the entry fees for this place alone! He couldn’t afford a thousand dollars, much less whatever price Yata might eventually fetch amongst these people.

“What’d I miss?" Fujiko whispered from Lupin’s other side, slipping into her seat. 

“Gogo-chan got five million,” Lupin informed her proudly. “We’ve got Crow-chan up, now. He’s popular so far.”

Panic rose in Zenigata’s throat, choking him. He couldn’t allow this to happen! He was responsible for Yata! It wasn’t like he could call for backup—Interpol didn’t know he was even there, and if they _did_ know there would be a lot of questions that Zenigata just wasn’t prepared to answer at the moment. He had his badge, but he also had the growing certainty that it was next to useless in a place like this. 

Mistress Echo called a series of ever-increasing numbers, each one putting Yata’s freedom further out of Zenigata’s reach. He shut his eyes tightly against the prickling heat. “Please,” he rasped, voice thick with tears, “please help me win him. I’ll do anything.”

Lupin and Fujiko exchanged a look, then Fujiko flashed a pair of paddles. Mistress Echo smiled broadly and called out: “That’s two million! Going once, going twice, and sold!”

The bunny assistant scuttled over to Fujiko, who simply whispered in her ear. Nodding quickly, the bunny girl returned to the stage and led Yata away. 

“Where are they taking him?” Zenigata asked, alarmed. Jigen squeezed his shoulder in warning, and he lowered his voice. “You won, didn’t you?”

“Come with me,” said Fujiko, and she took Zenigata’s hand and led him out of the auditorium. He followed, not having any better ideas, but all the while he had the niggling sensation that he’d been tricked. 

“You planned this all along, didn’t you?” Zenigata accused, keeping his voice low even once they were out of the auction room. 

“What a thing to say to me, after I just did you such a big favor,” Fujiko said with a pout in her voice. “Here we are.”

She opened a door, and Yata was on the other side. He looked up at Zenigata, eyes so wide and frightened, and immediately burst into tears. Zenigata rushed forward and gathered him into a tight embrace, petting his hair and shushing him like a child. 

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Yata blubbered, eyeliner painting smudged tracks down his cheeks beneath the mask. “I had to! They knew you were here, and I couldn’t just do _nothing!”_

So they _had_ threatened him. Maybe not directly, but Zenigata’s blood boiled. “You absolute dingus. They took advantage of your loyalty and your good heart. I won’t forgive it.”

“Lucky for you, I’m part owner of this establishment,” Fujiko said casually, lounging on a nearby couch and helping herself to a glass of ice water. “I was able to cap the auction at two million and win it because Mistress Echo knows me. The price would have climbed even higher, otherwise.”

Zenigata glared murder at her. “If you’re part owner, why did you let him get up there in the first place?!”

“She was the one who offered me the contract,” Yata said. “Ishikawa-san signed one as well. He said he needed the money. But you said you _knew_ the owners!”

“I never lied,” Fujiko insisted. “I do know them; I also happen to be one of them. And Zenigata _was_ at the mercy of two of the most dangerous men I know, and I am honestly pretty surprised to see him walking around. Jigen must be losing his touch.”

Zenigata blushed beneath his hood, furious. “You let him believe I was in danger!”

“If I’d told the other club owners that two Interpol agents were lurking around here, you would have been,” Fujiko snapped back. “Be glad all I put you through was a little humiliation.”

Yata blanched. “I take full responsibility for this, Sir. Anything I can do—”

“No,” Zenigata cut him off with a sigh. “I’m responsible, for you and for this mission. I never should have brought you here, and I shouldn’t have left you alone. So. I owe you two million dollars, now, do I? You understand that my salary at Interpol isn’t exactly going to cover that. Even if I pay in installments, it’ll take me well past my retirement.”

“I realized that. If I were worried about the money, I wouldn’t have bothered helping you.” She sounded bored. A deception, certainly. “I have an option for you to repay me in full, and it will only take you a couple of evenings. It’s not illegal or even particularly unpleasant, either.”

Zenigata narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting I _work_ for you? _Here?”_

“I knew you were smarter than you looked.” Fujiko smiled. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Wait!” Yata objected. “Sir, please! Let me work off my own debt. It’s the least I can do.”

“You _could_ split the cost and be done in one night instead of two,” Fujiko said thoughtfully, as though the idea hadn’t occurred to her before. “Plus I promise to vet your ‘companions’ for the evening myself. Cross my heart.”

“I seriously doubt you have one,” Zenigata muttered. “All right. Since I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it, Yata, we’ll both work off this debt. It will be a lesson in humility for our mistakes this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” said Yata, eyes shining with relief and gratitude. 


	5. IN WHICH ZENIGATA AND YATA PAY OFF THEIR DEBTS

A week later, Zenigata and Yata returned to the club. They’d been instructed to wear the same outfits as before, so they had. The same bouncers were posted at the doors, and the one who had swatted Yata’s ass recognized him with a bright grin. “Hey, it’s the pretty little bird!”

“Hi,” Yata said, not putting any effort into flirting this time, but not being outright rude, either. 

“Aww, why so glum, pet? This guy not keeping you on a tight enough leash?” He nudged his buddy and they both laughed. 

Zenigata glowered and stepped between Yata and the bouncer. “Fujiko Mine asked for us,” he growled, “so I suggest you let us in before she starts to wonder what’s taking so long.”

That name did the trick. The bouncers hurriedly let the two officers inside with a contrite bow. They stopped at the coat check, entered the lobby, and sat down on one of the couches as they’d been instructed. This time, Yata sat beside Zenigata instead of in his lap. The silence between them stretched tighter and tighter, like a violin string that would eventually snap if overwound. 

“You didn’t have to be here,” Zenigata said finally.

“Funny,” said Yata, “I was going to say the same to you, sir.”

With a deep sigh, Zenigata wrapped an arm around Yata’s shoulders and rested his hand on the side of Yata’s head, drawing him into a sort of half-hug. “We’re cut from the same cloth. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really a good thing.”

Yata’s hand came up to rest on the back of Zenigata’s, turning his cheek to press into Zenigata’s broad palm. His voice, though quiet, was earnest and unwavering. “I can think of no greater honor than to be compared to you, Inspector.”

_ Damnit.  _ Zenigata had promised himself he wasn’t going to show any weakness in this place. No tears. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at the ceiling until the prickling in his eyes receded. 

“You two are so sweet,” Fujiko cooed, leaning in the doorway. Zenigata straightened and withdrew his arm quickly, but that only made him look guilty. Yata stared at her with trepidation. “Oh, come on, now. No need to look like I’m here to lead you to your execution. Please, follow me.”

Fujiko led the way to one of the private rooms, but not one either of them had been to before. This one had an enormous bed in it, as well as a couch and two armchairs. Along with the adjoining bathroom, it could have been an ordinary hotel room, if a bit on the fancy side. “Welcome to the premium suite. You’ll be working in here tonight.”

“Together?” Yata all but squeaked.

Fujiko raised a brow. “Would you rather be separated?”

Neither of them needed time to think about that. “No,” they chorused, then exchanged startled looks and matching blushes. Zenigata added, “This is fine.”

“I thought so. Now, your clients are on their way. Please be respectful. They’re paying a lot of money to be here.”

The door opened, and three men entered. Even before they took off their masks, it was obvious who they were—they were all wearing their normal attire. “Lupin? Jigen? Goemon?!”

Lupin and Jigen, Zenigata could understand, at least on some level. He was still trying to reconcile his own attraction to them, and vice versa, but that didn’t mean he was in denial that it existed. Goemon, on the other hand, was a bit of a surprise—despite being auctioned off himself, Zenigata had been under the impression that Goemon eschewed such carnal pleasures.

Yata was staring at Goemon like he had a better understanding of why the samurai might be there, though, and Zenigata wondered how much his protege had avoided telling him about the other night. “Ishikawa-san…” he began haltingly. “Did you… use some of the money you earned to be here tonight?”

It was Goemon’s turn to blush, which only made Zenigata more bewildered. He nodded once, curtly. “The reason I agreed to be part of the auction was to ensure I would be able to help pay for your own fee.”

He gave Fujiko a pointed look, but she just laughed. “Goemon, that wasn’t necessary, and you know it. But I do love your sense of chivalry.”

Yata bowed deeply from the waist to Goemon. “Please accept my thanks and my profound apologies, Ishikawa-san!”

Goemon grimaced and shook his head. “Stop. It was nothing.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t pay for the whole thing, you know,” Lupin interjected, hands on his hips. “Jigen and I each chipped in half a mil, too.”

“Don’t think it was outta charity or anything,” Jigen huffed, crossing his arms. “I intend to get what I paid for.”

Zenigata’s expression firmed up as he nodded. “Of course. We had a deal, and we will hold up our end.”

“That’s the spirit, Pops!” Lupin cheered. 

“Don’t forget about me,” Fujiko said. “I paid a quarter of the fee, too. We each put in half a million, that makes four equal shares.”

Yata swallowed audibly. “So, between the two of us, we’re going to be… the four of you are going to…”

“Sharing is caring, right?” Lupin winked. “Why don’t we all get more comfortable?”

This time, Lupin and Fujiko gravitated towards Zenigata, while Jigen and Goemon went to Yata. Though Lupin wasn’t the only one with a lustful gleam in his eye, nobody was in a rush. They took their time undressing one another, hands exploring and gentle, until both Zenigata and Yata were completely exposed. Even their masks were removed, as they were clearly unnecessary. Yata was wearing his plug again, which was the only thing left alone. They were shooed up onto the bed while their ‘clients’ finished undressing. There was a stronger sense of comfort and intimacy between the four thieves, a familiarity with each others’ bodies that went beyond a mere working relationship. Fujiko, giggling, had to swat Lupin away from her breasts when he got carried away removing her bra. Jigen kissed the side of Goemon’s neck in a way that made the samurai shiver and moan. Zenigata and Yata watched them, transfixed, kneeling side by side on the massive bed. The size of the bed made sense, now, if it was going to support six people all at once. It didn’t look like the thieves would need to—or want to—take turns.

With six naked adults finally on the bed proper, there was no room left for modesty or personal space. Lupin climbed into Zenigata’s lap like he’d done it a million times before, diving into a deep, passionate kiss. Fujiko turned her attention to Goemon, who seemed happy to indulge her in some kisses as well. 

That left Yata with Jigen, who was looking at him with a lazy smirk, hatless for once, shaggy hair swept back off his forehead. “Don’t worry,” Jigen said, caressing Yata’s smooth cheek, “I won’t bite, unless you ask.”

It was so cheesy yet disarming. Yata laughed sheepishly and leaned in, tasting the smoke and whiskey on Jigen’s tongue. He’d had a bit of a crush on the gunman, if he was being honest, ever since that time in the kingdom of Dorrente. He still had the old pistol hidden in a shoe box in the back of his closet (and no, he was never telling Zenigata about it.) Sometimes he fantasized about Jigen teaching him how to use it. Like in a sexy way. _ Jigen, arms wrapped around him, correcting his form. The recoil knocking Yata back against Jigen… _

The fantasy was nothing next to the reality, though. Jigen was rough all over, hairy and scarred, calluses on his fingers and palms from where he gripped his guns, yet his hands and eyes were startlingly kind. Maybe that was why he kept the brim of his hat so low: his eyes gave him away. Yata couldn’t stop gazing into them, only closing his own briefly as they came together in another kiss. Jigen leaned back against the pillows and pulled Yata into his lap, but froze when Yata gave a startled little yip. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” Yata squeaked. He dared to glance down and behind himself and oh, all right, he wasn’t imagining things—Jigen was just that big. The gunman’s cock had gone from flaccid to fully hard in the time they’d been kissing, and during the change in positions it had bonked right up against the base of his plug.

Jigen, realizing what had happened, huffed out a laugh. He reached behind Yata and took hold of the fake gem at the base, not moving it yet, just holding it. Making eye contact, he asked, “You want me to take this out for you?”

Swallowing past a suddenly dry throat, Yata tried a few times to get his mouth to form words correctly before he was able to mumble, “Only… only if you’ll put something else in its place.”

That got a proper chuckle out of Jigen, and he tugged the plug out in one smooth motion that made Yata gasp and shudder. Yata glanced over at Zenigata then, and their eyes met as Fujiko sank down onto Zenigata’s formidable cock. She cooed as he bottomed out in her. Lupin swallowed her moans with a deep kiss as he fingered her ass. Goemon was left sitting near the foot of the bed, in the middle, simply watching everyone else. That wouldn’t do at all. 

“Ishikawa-san?” Yata realized the formal address might seem strange in such an intimate situation. “Ah, I mean… Goemon. Would you like to join us?”

Goemon exchanged a look with Jigen, then nodded once. He knee-walked across the bed in a way that nobody ever looked graceful doing, yet he somehow managed it. His hands, hot even against Yata’s flushed skin, traced invisible lines down Yata’s back. “You were beautiful in the ropes,” he murmured, almost shyly. “I would like to do that with you again, if you would be willing.”

Yata’s heart pounded in his ears. “Y-yes, I’d like that very much,” he said, perhaps too quickly, too eagerly. “Another time, maybe?”

“Of course.” The smile Goemon gifted him was small, but warm. 

_ Oh no. Leave it to me to catch feelings for two men at once during an orgy. _

“Ohhh~! Lupin!” Fujiko squealed, then moaned deeply, Zenigata and Lupin chorusing around her. Yata tried not to envy her too much—he was fairly limited with only one hole to fill.

Unless…

Yata took a good look at Jigen and Goemon and did the math. The math looked something like this:  _ if two (2) larger-than-average dicks get stuffed into one (1) average-but-stretchable anus, how quickly will I die? _

Addendum:  _ how much do I care versus how fucking hot will it be? _

Conclusion:  _ do it, coward. _

_ This is a terrible idea _ , Yata thought. His mouth said: “I think I could take you both at once.”

Jigen blinked, then looked alarmed. He, too, looked at his dick, Goemon’s dick, and did some math. His math was probably better. “No way.”

“Perhaps with enough preparation,” Goemon said, considering. “If he can take me up to here on my forearm—” he indicated a spot a few inches down his wrist—”he could take our combined lengths and girths with little trouble.”

_ THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA. _ “Let’s do it.”

There were bedside tables with lube and condoms and everything else someone might need for an orgy, or even a much more reasonable number of people having sex. Goemon carefully rolled a condom over his fingers, which he clustered together as tightly as possible to make his hand into a sort of pointed cone shape. The condom conveniently rolled down all the way down past his wrist past the point where they had determined their depth goal. 

“Let me start smaller, first,” Jigen suggested, eying Goemon’s ‘glove’ warily. He lubed up three fingers and inserted them one at a time—only to discover that it didn’t take much effort at all for Yata to take all three at once. “Huh. You’re already pretty loose.”

“I’ve been—ah!—wearing that plug for a few hours now,” Yata panted, wriggling his hips back against Jigen’s probing fingers. “I prepped pretty extensively, too. If you use enough lube and go slow, I can take a  _ lot  _ back there.”

He sneaked a peek at Zenigata after that revelation, but Zenigata was currently occupied by the voluptuous Fujiko riding his cock with Lupin fucking her ass in tandem. Yata could see why Zenigata was distracted. Still, it might have been nice to get a reaction; part of the reason Yata knew he could take quite a bit of stretching and filling was because he’d been practicing with progressively larger toys in the hopes that someday, some  _ beautiful  _ day, he could get Zenigata to rail him within an inch of his life.

However, having two hot men with gorgeous cocks willing to do double penetration on him? Also great practice!

Jigen spread his three fingers wide and added his pinky, pushing in until he was past the knuckles and had to stop or get his thumb in there as well. “Damn. Okay, hot stuff, I get you. Goemon, fist this hot twink while I suck your dick, would you?"

And just like that, they rearranged themselves so that Yata was holding onto the headboard for support, kneeling wide, as Goemon slowly, carefully worked his entire hand into Yata’s ass. Jigen propped himself on elbows and knees and took Goemon into his mouth, slurping and moaning indecently. To Goemon’s credit, he was excellent at focusing on a task even with distractions. Yata wondered how many times he’d had to practice doing something else while getting a blow job to ‘transcend’ such a distraction. He wondered if Goemon still needed assistance with such training, and if he accepted volunteers.

The stretch was intense. It stung a little, but Goemon was patient and just as good at moving excruciatingly slowly as he was at moving faster than the naked eye could follow. Yata felt Goemon’s hand disappear inside his ass inch by harrowing inch. By the time his rim finally let the heel of Goemon’s palm inside, Yata was shaking all over. Goemon used his free hand to stroke down Yata’s spine, soothing him. “Are you all right?” Goemon intoned, stilling his progress. “We can still use the stoplight colors here. Do not think that your debt obligates you to say ‘yes’ to everything.”

“Green!” Yata gasped. “I  _ want _ it, Goemon. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

Goemon nodded, though Yata couldn’t see it, and continued pressing forward. It was a little easier now that the largest part was inside. Before he knew it, Yata had a samurai in his ass halfway to his elbow. Yata wondered if this was how Muppets felt.

Jigen drew away from Goemon’s cock and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “How’s it feel?”

Groaning helplessly, Yata closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, but it was like there wasn’t enough room inside his body to inhale fully. “Big,” he grunted. “Full. Fuck, so  _ full _ . Hnnngh, take it out, I want both of you in here.”

Not wanting to hurt him, Goemon eased out only marginally more quickly than he’d gone in, applying more lube when necessary. They were making a mess, lube soaking into the top covers on the bed. Jigen rolled a condom on himself, then thoughtfully put one on Goemon as well, before taking up position on his back beneath Yata in approximately the same way they’d been lying before Goemon joined them. Goemon helped lift Yata and arrange his limbs, as the young officer was trembling all over. Jigen guided his lube-slicked cock into Yata’s gaping hole and almost shouted as it slid in absurdly easily. Yata whimpered and ground against Jigen, seeking friction on his own needy cock. Goemon held Yata’s hips still and slipped two fingers in beside Jigen’s dick, stretching Yata’s loosened rim to make room for himself. He slid in slowly, carefully. Jigen moaned at the sensation of Goemon rubbing up against him in the tight grip of Yata’s body. Yata moaned at the sensation of being filled to the brim yet again. Goemon moaned because this was by far the most erotic thing he’d ever done in his life, and considering he slept with Fujiko and Lupin on a regular basis, that was saying something. 

Yata felt a sort of peace slipping over his mind as he adjusted to the feeling of having both men completely inside him. Maybe it was the pain of the stretch drowning him in endorphins, or the sheer satisfaction of knowing that he  _ could _ do this. Maybe he was just that comfortable with being used, and the idea that he could be useful to anyone,  _ wanted _ by anyone like this, was a balm to his very soul. In any case, he gazed down at Jigen with his too-naked eyes and smiled softly and kissed him, then craned his neck around for a slightly more awkward (but no less sweet) kiss from Goemon. Then, he said: “Move.”

They did, slowly, and not very far, because it was an incredibly tight fit even with Goemon’s preparation. The pressure of having two cocks nestled inside his ass meant that no matter how they moved, Yata’s prostate was getting a thorough massage. His trembling increased to violent shaking as his climax approached with screaming, freight train speed. 

“Oh—oh fuck, oh god,” Yata choked out after only three shallow thrusts, his cock pulsing hotly over Jigen’s hairy belly. Goemon wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him steady so he wouldn’t fall over in the mess. Jigen held him up from below, propping his forearms against Yata’s shoulders and taking Yata’s face between his hands for more gentle kisses to ease him through the aftershocks. “I c-can’t, please—”

Goemon understood immediately and pulled out as swiftly as he dared, Jigen following, both men helping Yata lie down on his side on the bed. Goemon grabbed a handful of wet wipes from the bedside table to clean off Jigen’s torso and the truly absurd amount of lube leaking from Yata’s ass. Jigen grabbed one of the folded blankets at the foot of the bed and tucked it around Yata. They curled around him like a pair of parentheses, stroking his back and his hair, kissing him softly, telling him how well he’d done and how incredible he was. 

Zenigata had come shortly after Yata; hearing his protege’s cries had tipped him over the edge and he’d filled the condom while he was inside Fujiko’s demanding heat. Fujiko pulled off him with a giggling kiss as he softened, and Lupin hastily stripped off his old condom and put on a fresh one to continue fucking her recently vacated pussy. They were so wrapped up in each other now that Zenigata felt no guilt for leaving them to crawl closer to Yata. 

“Yata?” he called softly, then, tentatively, “Goro?”

“Sir?” Jigen glanced at Zenigata and wordlessly got up out of the way so that the inspector could take his place. Zenigata gathered Yata into his arms and Yata came willingly, whimpering as his body twinged uncomfortably at the movement. His eyes watered as he blinked up at his mentor. “Sir…”

“I think you can call me Koichi here, Goro,” Zenigata chuckled quietly, cradling Yata against his broad chest. He thumbed away the tears as they spilled down Yata’s cheeks. “Shh, it’s all right. I’ve got you.”

Goemon slipped away as well, dropping one last kiss on Yata’s tousled hair, and joined Jigen on the couch. From the sounds of things, they were fine taking care of each other while Zenigata handled Yata. Speaking of whom, Yata sniffled and buried his face against Zenigata’s chest. “I wanted it to be you. I know it’s inappropriate, but sir— _ Koichi _ …”

“I know,” Zenigata hushed him, kissing the top of his head and petting his hair. “Oh, I know.”

_ Catching feelings for  _ **_three_ ** _ men during an orgy, _ Yata corrected his earlier thought wryly,  _ though I can’t tell if it counts if those feelings already existed. _


	6. EPILOGUE

Zenigata stood up from his desk and stretched, yawning hugely. Another long, quiet, exhausting day. Lupin and the others had been on ‘vacation’ for close to three weeks now, but unfortunately Zenigata couldn’t do the same. Yata was faithfully typing up reports and copying over old records into the new digital system; an invaluable part of Yata’s skill set that Zenigata simply didn’t have was his ease with computers and modern technology. Zenigata took this as a sign that he was, in fact, getting older. When he looked at the determination written into every line of his younger apprentice’s body, however, he had hope for the future. Yata would be a fine investigator someday. In many ways, he already was.

Glancing up, Yata caught Zenigata looking at him and broke into a cheerful smile. “I’m almost done here, sir!”

“Leave it,” Zenigata told him. “I’ll take you to lunch. You’ve been working hard.”

…

Yata walked beside Zenigata, close enough that their shoulders brushed every few steps or so. Lunch was the ramen stand around the corner, as that was the fanciest thing Zenigata could afford on his budget. At least it wasn’t instant cup noodle. They took up two stools at the counter and let their knees press together. Sometimes, Zenigata would put a hand on Yata’s back or shoulder, the warmth seeping through his jacket. It was all the contact they could allow themselves during work hours. 

“Sir, I’ve been thinking about the Lupin Gang,” Yata began as they waited for their orders.

“I’d hope so,” mused Zenigata, turning a lopsided smile on him. “That’s what they pay us for, after all.”

“They call you ‘Pops’ because you make dad jokes, right?” Yata deadpanned. Zenigata groaned, wounded. “Anyway, I meant, I was thinking about the… the club.”

Zenigata colored instantly. “We shouldn’t discuss that here,” he mumbled. “You know that’s… classified.”

“I was just thinking, maybe it needs further investigation,” Yata pressed on. “We never did find out the real reason they were there. What if they were committing a crime, right under our noses?”

“Are you suggesting we go through all that nonsense again?” Zenigata narrowed his eyes at Yata. “Wait. You just want to go back there, don’t you?”

Yata’s impish grin was all the answer he needed. “We could always try for more convincing disguises.”

“You’re worse than Lupin,” Zenigata growled, rubbing his knuckles on top of Yata’s head as the younger man laughed and tried to lean away. “That won’t be necessary, though.”

“Why not?” It was impossible to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

“Lupin left a calling card. Not at the usual sort of places,” Zenigata explained, “but in my mailbox. Said he was going to steal two of Interpol’s finest next Saturday night.”

The smile that broke out on Yata’s face was so bright that Zenigata couldn’t look directly at it lest he do something foolish, like kiss him. “Sounds like a date.”

…

At the end of the day, crossing the threshold into Zenigata’s cramped, messy apartment, they ceased to be Inspector and Protege and simply became Koichi and Goro. As if leaving their jobs and titles at the door had lifted a physical weight from their bodies, they stood up taller, shoulders more relaxed, expressions softening. Yata reached up and removed Zenigata’s hat so he could run his fingers through the dense, short curls, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) name as he noticed more silver hairs scattered through the dark brown. 

Zenigata kissed him like he was something precious and wonderful, and Yata kissed him back like he was his entire world. Both of these things were true. Another thing that was true, was that they both had hearts big enough to hold love for each other and the four strange, infuriating, marvelous thieves that they chased around the world—and who now sometimes chased them back.

…

_-end-_


End file.
